Mercy
by DM-sama
Summary: When swallowed by darkness, it's easy to lose your way. The light is there to guide us all, but what do we do if we cannot see it? If we cannot see our reflection, how can we tell what we've become? Dalish Elf Origin, Pre-Landsmeet, One-shot


_Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves._

_-Henry David Thoreau_

_—_

_**~*Mercy*~**_

—

The forest was still that night. The moon hung limply in the sky, casting dark shadows upon the world far below.

The wind whispered through the sleepy hollow, rustling the dead leaves. A few moments later, the mighty stag limped out of the shadows of the trees. It's pure, white fur glistened in the moonlight. Ears perked up and twitched faintly as the continued chirping and swaying of the wood swelled up in the sudden silence.

Remaining as still as a solemn statue, a steady hand tightened on the string of a notched arrow.

The stag pawed nervously at the ground, shifting the soft dirt. Snorting, it lifted its black nose, tasting the air for danger.

Seeming content, the deer limped further into the clearing, shaking it's mane about, arching forward to nibble at the grass.

A heartbeat seemed to vibrate the air. An armored chest heaved with sudden breath.

All was silent.

Then bow the tightened.

The sudden scrambling of delicate hoofs cracked the air as the stag darted back from whence he came. An arrow had lodged itself into the air where the beast had been tending, quickly followed by the twang of a bowstring and the snap of another arrow close on the beast's heels. A sharp curse resounded in the clearing. Two gleaming golden eyes carefully watched the beast as it became but a fleeing shadow.

Peacefulness descended upon the forestry for a moment longer before a graceful, moonlit maiden arose from the tended shelter of the brush. The head of fiery red hair contrasted sharply against the darkness of night, but her body language spoke of familiarity with the forest. She glided forward and plucked up the loosened arrow, holding it for inspection, eyes narrowed.

_Point blank and it still missed. Unbelievable._

Shaking her head in disgust, the elf carelessly placed the bloodless arrow back into the skinned quiver. She sauntered forward and scrutinized the intimidating shadows of the forest. Nothing but the rustling of disturbed leaves and lingering illusions were to be found.

Her jaw locked, eyes flashing with hunger as she glared back into the thick of night. Day three. The fourth night since she's begun hunting the blasted white stag. And what did she have to show for her efforts? Eight loosened arrows, bleeding feet, and an empty belly.

Bracing herself, heaving a deep breath, she forced herself to press on, ignoring the dulled pain as it laced up and through her legs. She had long since grown numb to the sensations of her feet, able to feel nothing more than recently opened blisters and scabs. She would sometimes try to pleasantly distract herself with what Leliana would say if she saw how such beautiful shoes had been ruined with bloodstains. It would earn a chuckle, sometimes, but the pain never diminished.

The further she delved into the forest, the more she found herself struggling for breath. The bleeding wounds on her feet seemed to aggravate every other ache and sore in her body, causing her to trip over nearly every stray root and rock in her disorientation. She could barely work up the energy to be annoyed with her weaknesses. No matter her mental berating, within a matter of minutes she could do nothing more than slump tiredly against a lone oak tree.

Trying to ignore her burning eyes, she straightened up and rested against the bark, more comfortable than she had been in the last eight days. Eight days of walking, hunting, and surviving off of rice cakes, and berries that even the animals had not deemed necessary to eat. Twelve days since she's seen any of her comrades, or even another human being. Nothing but forest stretched on for miles.

After awhile she sunk into a fitful sleep of restless dreams. The white stag was taunting her, remaining at the very edge of her subconscious, just barely beyond her reach. She hissed, and growled, and screamed, but every time she was close enough to touch its beautiful antlers, it would dance out of her grasp, laughing. It grew bigger, morphed, and suddenly it was not a stag, but a beautiful woman with eyes that burned like the setting sun and hair of the purest flame. A mighty Grey Warden, not a pitiful elf that shivered alone in the forest.

It felt like hours later when she was suddenly roused from her light daze. It was a moment before she realized it wasn't another imaginative illusion, but that there were actual voices somewhere nearby. Men, two of them. With all the skill of a rogue, the elf cautiously tucked herself deeper into the shadows. She nearly cursed aloud, having not realized just how close she had strayed to the main road that cut through the forest. Two armored soldier's, the voices she had heard, were drawing closer.

It was only slightly alarming that she could almost smell the recently devoured meat wafting from them, a late dinner apparently. A wave of nausea and fatigue rolled over her, reminding her of the last meal she had eaten yesterday morning, a collection of elfroot and dried biscuits. Chewing her lip, she had to resist notching an arrow right then, instead cautiously positioning herself for an ample kill. Killing was a simple business when you became a cornered rat.

So focused on staying hidden, she blocked out their voices for the most part. Bits and pieces of their conversation floated to her, but she only tuned in when she heard the word "Warden".

"—actually believe there would be Grey Wardens hiding in the bloody Brecilian, did he?" It was the taller soldier that had been speaking.

Curses flew threw her head as she realized how much danger she was in. Tense with the prospect of flight, Eva froze in surprise of it when the younger; fairer-skinned of the two violently shushed the other.

"_You want to wake up the whole forest, do you_?" He stopped walking, and warily looked about the clearing. His eyes glided past her hiding spot in the shadows, and her breath caught. His eyes lingered a moment before turning around again. "I dunno about Grey Wardens, but there are plenty of other things that might want to take a chomp out of us."

Her mind was suddenly filled with stories of the ancient _elvhen _consuming the flesh of their defeated enemies. It had been believed to signify victory and summon good fortune. A low, angry grumble ripped through her stomach, causing her vision to swim. Licking her dry, cracked lips, she slowly removed one bloodless arrow from the quiver and raised it to her bow.

The first one was laughing boisterously, clapping his comrade on the shoulder. "Imagine if we actually were the ones to take down the Wardens. We'll be regarded as war heroes. We'll be rich! Ha-ha!"

"All I know is that Loghain thinks that because of some treaties that the elves signed four dozen years ago the Wardens might be tucked away somewhere nearby." Her body tensed, and her ears perked up. "We scan the forest, walk about once or twice, and leave for home by noon tomorrow."

She surged forward, eyes wild with animalistic intensity. Blood instantly began to boil under her skin as memories of _that place _began to cloud her mind. These were no ordinary soldier's, but Loghain's own personal goons, sent to kill her, or worse. '_Traitors! Murderers to the king!'_ Her vision went red with fury and, with a restored vitality, she notched the arrow with greater force than necessary and began to take aim, hands quivering.

Both men were oblivious to the danger greater than any werewolf that lurked nearby. The first one laughed again. "That Loghain's a mad one, he is, but, eh, he's also the one that signs my paychecks." He began walking again, and the other reluctantly trailed after.

Eva habitually closed one eye, and her chest heaved with held breath as her hand tensed. Her intended path led straight to the pale one's neck, the one that was sensible enough to feel fear.

And then, just a moment before she loosened her grip, the youngling suddenly paused, hesitated, and pulled something out from his pocket. She instantly stiffened, thinking it was some sort of shock bomb or acidic flask, until she saw the silver gleaming in the moonlight. It was a necklace. No, a locket, rather. The solider sighed, and snapped it open. Inside rested a picture of a woman she did not recognize. Curious, she leaned forward to get a closer look, unconsciously lowering the bow.

"May Andraste herself guide me home in time for supper tomorrow. Katilyn hates eating alone."

The elf froze.

The other laughed again, but this time a small, compassionate chortle. "Oh, don't be talking your wife's cooking now, I'm starving over here." He grinned, and lowered his voice. "When's the newborn due, anyway?"

The husband of Katilyn smiled warmly, eyes distant as he gently held the locket."Real soon. Maybe even tomorrow." He tucked the precious locket away. "That's why I'm particularly eager to get this done as soon as possible, if you don't mind."

"Hey, you won't find no complaints from me. We'll do a quick sweep through the road and back and be home by sun up." The other nodded, and they both continued down the path. "You know, I've always wondered whether or not werewolves had actual rounded snouts or if they were just square muzzles…"

The conversation grew fainter and fainter as the soldier's walked out of earshot. Even so, the elf kept the bow tightened. She hadn't realized it when her hands began trembling. Her face slack, she slowly lowered the bow. The arrow clattered onto the ground.

The strength of her fury gone, she could do nothing but crumble against the support of the oak tree. Her eyes began burning. Biting her lip, she trained her eyes to the sky, trying to do anything but think.

**~*O*~**

_**Author's Note: **_An idea that flocks into your head one night, and then 1,500+ words later we have this! Fairly simplistic, just how I wanted it!

This features my Grey Warden, a Dalish elf named Evathari, though preferring to be called 'Eva' by anyone outside of her clan. Try to ignore her current gloomy disposition; she's usually very quite spunky! I don't really know what inspired this; I just really wanted to write some with her featured before I delve back into the Dragon Age 2 galore.

**P.S. **If anyone here is inquiring about _A Moment's Hesitation_…you have my deepest apologies. I have all the ideas and am still very excited by the prospect, but for some reason I'm having some serious trouble with getting started. I still have plans to produce it, (_believe _me, I do. It haunts my every waking thought) so hopefully I'll post up the first chapter sometime this month, though I _guarantee _before the end of the year. Trust me, with all the careful planning and obsessive tendencies I've placed into it thus far, the wait is going to be worth it.

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**Comment Question of the Day:**

Do people ever really change?

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Leave your answer in a review! I'd love to hear what you guys have to say! :D

**~DM-sama**


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